Dean bet he'd done a lot of drinking during that time period. Jesus Christ.
Poor Sam.
Still hunting, though. Ellen was his age, so that put Dean in his sixties. Sam'd be in his late fifties. "Way to go, Sammy," Dean said, under his breath.
Bobby'd be... well, he'd have to be gone. Dean didn't like thinking about that. But he knew it must be true. Bobby was about sixty or so now.
"The phone call," he said. He remembered Ellen running out of the restaurant when Bobby called. He shook his head. At least she'd known him. That was really important.
Cas was going to have to do some explaining. Dean'd paid this bill. Even if she wanted to be a hunter, it was crap that Ellen had to be here.
Dean's eyebrow rose, and he looked Ellen full in the face. He could see it, now, when he looked at her, in the way he could see Lisa when he looked at Ben. Once you saw it, it was there and impossible to miss.
What did you say to your daughter, when she didn't even exist yet?
"Look, I know what this is like," Dean said. He remembered how weird it'd been to see his mom and dad before they were his mom and dad, and to see his grandparents. "But if I did half the things right I shoulda done, the thing that hurt your m--" He still couldn't call Jo her mom. It was too weird.